Troll
by Aberdeenlondon
Summary: Olog is an orc, Uldor is an Easterling with a plan, and the Shire-bound elves are curious. Is it possible, with enough good deeds, for an elf to become an orc? A collab with tons of OCs.
1. Chapter 1

_Then suddenly straight over the rim of their sheltering bank, a man fell, crashing through the slender trees, nearly on top of them. He came to rest in the fern a few feet away, face downward, green arrow-feathers sticking from his neck below a golden collar. His scarlet robes were tattered, his corslet of overlapping brazen plates was rent and hewn, his black plaits of hair braided with gold were drenched with blood. His brown hand still clutched the hilt of a broken sword. It was Sam's first view of a battle of Men against Men, and he did not like it much. He was glad that he could not see the dead face. He wondered what the man's name was and where he came from; and if he was really evil of heart, or what lies or threats had led him on the long march from his home; and if he would not really rather have stayed there in peace. ( J.R.R. Tolkien, Two Towers_)

Oh, Sam. Poor misinformed Sam. This man wasn't dead. Uldor opened his eyes to see the branches of the trees swaying in the wind, illuminating the bank with a pure green light. The morning air was cool and felt good as he lay on the thick fern.

It took Uldor a moment to process that he wasn't at home. In fact, he was very far from home. You see, Uldor had lived in the warm, sandy desert of Häräd. He groaned as the memory came flooding back into his head. He had been forced into war on a long march to Mordor to serve on the side of Sauron and his horrible orc minions.

The man tried to sit up, but the golden collar was weighing down his neck, causing it to become incredibly stiff. He then realized why- a green-feathered arrow stuck out from his collar. Uldor yanked it free and yelled in pain, much different from any of his formal battle cries. He moved his hand slowly to his head and ran his fingers through the braids. They were warm and moist. He gazed nervously at his hands- they were coated in blood. Oh, Valar… He felt his body become numb and black dots appear before his eyes.

The next thing he knew, he was waking up, and heard hoarse voices above him.

"Keep it moving you lazy slugs!" the voice cried, "Don't you know we're at war?"

Orcs. Uldor tried to move, but his muscles were sore and his entire body ached. He hid in the thicket. He had learned quite enough about the orcs. IF they weren't after each other in dangerous quarrels, then they would kill anything else in their path for the pleasure of it. He didn't care to get to know orc-lore past that. The quick padding of scaly feet could be heard over his head.

A pack of Mordor orcs rushed over the path above him. One stopped abruptly, an orc in a tunic of grey warg fur. It sniffed the air, (though Uldor could hardly think it would be able to smell anything over its own stench,) and crouched down. He breathed aggressively through its yellow fangs, seeming to catch his scent.

"I smell you down there, Easterling scum," it hissed dangerously. Uldor held his breath. The heart in his chest beat like the wings of a fell beast.

"Your faithless people have never been brave enough to remain loyal to Sauron. You maggoty traitor hiding in the thicket from the might of mordor- Show yourself!"

"Faithless?" Uldor's voice cracked. He had intended it to sound like a challenge, but it came out like a squeak. He stood up, legs burning in pain, and grabbed the hilt of his sword. "You talk of loyalty, but you filthy orcs can't march for a single day without breaking out in battle amongst each other!"

The sudden outburst startled the orc, and it fell into the fern. Uldor quickly drew his sword and pointed it to the orc's scaly neck. He peered into the eyes of the monster, emerald green with flecks of gold, and found something there. He didn't know why, but he shakily lowered the blade. "I am not like you. I will have mercy, but do not cross me again. What brings you men here in the woods of Ithilien, do you not know that there are rangers from Minas Tirith scouting these parts?" _I got hit by an arrow,_ he wanted to add. He felt the back of his head. The blood had dried.

"I am no man," replied the orc angrily.

"I didn't mean to offend you-" he was cut off.

"I am Olog, servant of Mordor, and I am a _she-orc." _The man began to stutter, fearing the orc's temperament.

"Silence, fool!" Olog growled, stretching a hand over Uldor's mouth. Her ears twitched.

Uldor strained his ears and heard voices- the high trill of elves. Olog's face scrunched up and she scuttled under the roots of a large oak tree, leaving Uldor out in the open.

A docile grey horse leapt over the man's head and landed on the path above the bank. Several elven archers followed the horse's lead lightly on foot. THe elf that sat on the dappled grey palfrey radiated light. His silver hair fell down his back. On his head, he wore a mithril circlet, and his robes were night blue. The fabric rippled down his shoulders and down the horse's spotted back.

"Gildor!" cried one of the archers, "Orcs have marched upon these grounds!"

The mounted one sighed, "O Elbereth Gilthoniel, even the wood of ithilien isn't safe from the darkness of Sauron's forces. Soon the golden wood of Lothlórien will fall to the shadow."

His bright silver eyes scanned the ground. "You there!" cried Gildor, "You breathe so loudly I could shoot you in the night!" The archers raised their longbows and pointed them into the bank.

"Please, no!" pleaded Uldor, revealing himself. He stood before the elves, but regretted it, his head feeling light and dizzy after the blood loss and his muscles sore and painful. Supporting the golden collar and the brazen plates on his corslet was much more difficult than it had been previously. His robes were torn, the once beautiful scarlet fabric caked in mud and blood, though the latter was not visible. He felt awkward standing in front of the graceful elves. _Today is not my day._

Gildor's eyes shone with concern. "You're injured."

The elves lowered their bows. Gildor observed Uldor, looking him up and down with his unsettlingly bright eyes.

"Kingsfoil," called Gildor, "Maglor, retrieve Kingsfoil from the wood." He turned to an archer with dark hair and crystal eyes. Maglor nodded and silently leapt off the path, disappearing into the trees. GIldor hopped off his horse and grabbed Uldor by his tattered robes.

"Don't…" he began, but with one graceful lift, GIldor pulled the man onto the palfrey. Uldor was comfortable with Mûmakil, not horses, and shifted in his seat.

"Why are you helping me?" it was a dull question, but Uldor was sincere. He may have been confused and dizzy, but elves, straight out of the wood and helping an ally of Sauron, was strange.

"We are friends to all who turn from the path of the Dark Lord."

"I didn't…" he began, but stopped himself. He then realized something. _I'm free. I could simply ride off with the elves and never see the ugly plains of Mordor or another orc again._ He felt hope unfolding in him.

Then suddenly the archers had all drawn their bows to point at a thick oak root. Uldor had not heard anything, but the elves had sharp ears.

"Reveal yourself!" yelled one of the archers. Olog raised herself on her feet, her claws raised above her head in surrender.

"For the sake of the Valar, kill it!" cried a fair-haired archer in disgust. Olog scowled, looking at the elves with disgust, and Uldor wondered why the elves were better than orcs if they acted like that.

Uldor directed his horse in front of Olog. "She is with me. We are servants of the Dark Lord, Sauron, and we are looking for escape."

Olog looked at Uldor like she wanted to ring his neck. Gildor raised his eyebrows in surprise, then considered it for a moment, before nodding.

"We are heading for the Shire," he said, "Things are growing worse for the little folk now with Saruman and his follower on the loose. We need all the help we can get to delay his pack of ruffians before they can cause any harm to the hobbits. But, please, keep that orc under control."

"Kingsfoil!" shouted Maglor abruptly, stepping out of the trees and displaying a dark leafy plant. He looked upon the odd new fellowship. "Did I miss something?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors note: Since I am a beginning writer, part this tale is written by Aeranel-o-Aduial. This is her account u/4536659/Aranel-o-Aduial**

Olog was grumpy. It wasn't so much the smell of that rotten elvish kingsfoil, or the scent of the elves themselves, but the fact that she had been roped into going along with this 'merry party' to the Shire. The 'merry party,' as one obnoxious elf called it so freely and frequently, was indeed merry, at least when Olog wasn't around.

Having an orc in the group dampened the mood considerably, as Olog would've expected. She couldn't imagine what would happen if the orcs would tolerate an elf in the group- they wouldn't, in the first place. She didn't know if they would eat them, either, since they reviled elf flesh so much. And that was another thing! When had she begun referring to the other orcs as 'they'?

After she got roped into travelling to the Shire with elves, she guessed. She wasn't really a servant of Sauron anymore, was she?

Uldor avoided her after their first confrontation in the 'merry party', during which she bellowed at him, because orcs didn't yell, and nearly tore his throat out. However, even orcs have self-restraint, and she spit in his face and left him.

Then Uldor approached her, and she nearly spit in his face again.

"What do you want?" she growled, poking at a stone with a stick and definitely not sulking, because orcs don't _sulk._

He smirked, and she just knew he was going to say something hilarious. "I wanted to apologize for saving your life," he said smugly, and Olog stuck her tongue out at him, nearly laughing when he made a face.

"Ruining it, you mean. I could be out there, pillaging and plundering, murdering and killing, stealing and thieving-"

"Any more synonyms?"

"What's a si-noh-nim?"

"Words that mean the same, like, oh, say, moaning and complaining, sulking and brooding, mumbling and-"

"I get it."

"Then there's words that start the same- put together they're alliterations! Olog the orc ogles elves with omnipresent anger. Moodily malicious, mean and menacing is the muppet-"

"Muppet?!" Olog was becoming quickly irritated.

"And then there's rhymes, like shelves of elves, dork of an orc, what a droll troll-"

"You shut up!"

Olog didn't know she had risen, but at that last line had stood, and was now glaring at Uldor. Uldor looked a bit scared, and Olog, somehow, found herself sympathizing, with all those years as an underling in Sauron's army. She found her eyes softening, and glared at him a little more for good measure.

"Don't call me troll," said Olog, and stomped off to find another stick, and another rock, hopefully far away from the 'merry party' and Uldor.

…

As annoying as the 'merry party' was, Olog quickly began to learn the names of the elves. Of course, there was Gildor their leader, then there was Maglor, the minstrel with the dark hair and crystal eyes, the most ancient elf in the fellowship. He was always eyeing Uldor like he was somebody he'd seen before. (When the man told the elf his name, Olog thought Maglor would have a heart attack or something. He started breathing heavily and was muttering something along the lines of Nirnaeth Arnoediad and the Silmarils. She guessed being immortal drives you insane eventually.) Then there was Orodeth, a fair-haired Silvian elf from Mirkwood. He was quick to anger and also quick to laugh. He tended to wear his heart on his sleeve. He was also the one who came up with the term 'merry party'._He doesn't get out much. _Olog made a note to kill him first if she needed to. Then there was the beautiful elven archer who called herself NImrodel. She was from the golden wood of Lothlórien. She had braided golden hair and wore beautiful green robes, and was the group's guide and ranger. No one knew the paths of Middle Earth like NImrodel. Lastly, there was Aredhel, an elf from Rivendell who was Gildor's advisor and guard. She had dark auburn hair with a copper circlet encircling her head.

Gildor had told the fellowship that they would be heading to the Old Forest near the Shire. There were sightings there of an old wizard and a smaller man grovelling at his feet. They were apparently leading an army of ruffians to take care of the Shire folk. Gildor had said that a man called Bombadil could hold them off, but not for long. He had also said he had met a very important hobbit near the Shire's borders in the early fall, one who was carrying a most precious burden. The elves nodded solemnly at the mention of this, but Olog was just confused. Uldor had to excuse himself because he was laughing so hard. Hobbits? Where were the grumkins and wights?

Olog noticed that Uldor was very obnoxious now that he had gotten better from his little wound. She suspected the Lembas bread made him hyper. She made a mental note to limit his sugar intake.

The company had made it all the way to the Dead Marshes before sunset, (thanks to Nimrodel's skill,) and had set up camp. The fire's glow illuminated everyone's faces with an orange tint. The sound of the crackling fire, crickets, and Maglor's harp took everyone's mind off of the awful smell of mud and decaying bodies in the bogs. Uldor was biting his lower lip and smiling like a fool. _A handsome fool._ Who thought that? Certainly not Olog.

...

"What?" asked Gildor.

"What do the Orcs around Lorien fear the most?" asked Uldor, a smile painted across his lips.

No one answered.  
"Elf-inflicted wounds." He fell off his seat laughing. Even the horse, Greymantle, looked at him strangely.

"Oh, go kiss an orc!" cried Aredhel, who wasn't amused. Uldor's face turned red.

"Alright, I've had enough of social hour with you slugs," snapped Olog, "I'm going to get more firewood." She stomped off into the night. Maglor had stopped strumming his harp.

"My, my, my, a hot-tempered sort they are," said Aredhel.

"How do they become that way?" asked Uldor. The question began innocent enough.

"What do you mean?" asked Nimrodel, looking up from her map.

Uldor looked around anxiously for Olog, to make sure she wouldn't hear his next statement. "I once heard that orcs were once elves that fell under a dark power."

"It's true," said GIldor, stepping closer to the fire. His silver eyes shone like crystalline orbs.

The company leaned in around him, sensing the telling of a tale. He began to tell a sad story about the first elves who awoke from the waters of Cuiviénen, and how some of them had strayed from the Valar and become consumed by the might of the first dark lord, Morgoth. They had become hateful and monstrous beings who despised anything kind or loving. They had become afraid of the light. Slowly many changes overtook them until they became orcs. He said that some elves are still captured and tortured today, becoming the very thing that they feared and hated for their entire immortal lives. He ended by saying that all orcs are miserable and that's why they kill and steal- out of anger.

Uldor didn't take his eyes off the fire the entire story. He was afraid if he moved them, the elves would see the tears.

"Can an orc become an elf?" he asked suddenly. The entire company stared at him.

"If an elf can become an orc, why can't an orc become an elf?" He looked up from the fire now.

There was an awkward silence. Orodeth stared at him with his mouth half open. Just when Uldor was about to apologize, Gildor spoke up.

"That's a strange thought…" he said, "I don't see why not, although something like that has never been heard or told by the songs and tales of the Eldar."

None of the company went to bed, because they feared the treachery of the orc they called Olog. Uldor nearly drifted off, though. He had to force himself awake.


	3. Chapter 3

Olog was grumbling to herself as she picked up sticks from the ground and ripping javelins out of the hands of the dead men in the marshy bogs for firewood. She was starving. Her stomach felt like it had condensed a fourth of its size since she had left Mordor. She hadn't had anything but filthy maggoty bread for three stinking days; she wanted man-flesh! That would have to wait for another time, though. She couldn't run from the elves because they had told her that they would hunt her down if she dared to betray them, and they would restrain Uldor from saving her this time. She wondered what made the elven people the "good side." Was it because they were beautiful? The elves had, time and time again, proven themselves fearless killers in battle with their long bows and swords. She shook her head angrily. Fine, whatever, they don't trust me and I don't care. I like being alone anyways.

When she returned to camp, Olog found the elves sitting around the fire Maglor was playing his harp beautifully singing the Lay of Leithian at the top of his clear voice. Uldor was rummaging in the packs looking for more elfish bread. Olog sat and listened to the tale. She hated this story, but what she disliked the most about the night was when Uldor sat right next to her in the middle of the song when Maglor sang of Beren and Lúthien's romantic journey to recapture the silmaril from the crown of Morgoth. He was warm like he radiated heat from the deserts of south, he smelled like the honey that was in the Lamas he'd been stuffing in his face for the last hour, and his golden brown skin glowed in the light of the fire. Olog just really wanted to beat him to a pulp.

The song ended eventually, though, and Uldor gave Olog a curious look.

"...I suppose not," said Uldor, thoughtfully, "You're quite the troll aren't you? Elf life wouldn't suit you."

It was quite obvious he was talking to himself, but Olog still moved to kill him, curse the elves, when she heard that troll comment. She stopped, though, when she heard the elf life comment, and watched as he got up and walked off, wondering what the hell that was about.

Then Maglor started playing The Last Ship, and Olog stomped off, wondering why she would want the 'elf life' anyways.

...

Arabella Took was worried about her brothers. Again.

It wasn't taking her diary this time, or stealing something from their father, (who was so convinced that there was a ghost of the Old Took in the library that he didn't see much anymore,) and hiding it in the woods like a bunch of hooligans such as themselves would usually do- No, it was much, much worse.

"Father wants a bear, so we're going to bring him a bear," said they, and they had meant it, for the next day they went out to the forest by the old tree and didn't come back.

Now Arabella was a reasonable girl, so she didn't mean to go out there by herself if none of the bounders couldn't help, so she asked them first, and what a useless bunch of hobbits! They didn't even believe her, told her to wait two days to file a missing person's- thing. She couldn't remember what it was called. But seriously! Her brothers could be dragged all the way to Scary by some goblin by then, and she knew the rumors of Golfindul's ghost about there!

So she determined to find Everard and Reginard, whatever it took, and went out there herself.

It was mostly quiet by the old tree- no bears or badgers or nothing! So she went deeper into the forest and stopped when she saw a bear herself. She didn't scream too loud, but the bear noticed her anyway, and stopped eating, and ran after her.

Arabella wasn't stupid, either, so she knew she couldn't outrun a bear, and so she dived forward to see what that bear had been eating and then attempted to climb a tree. Unfortunately, what hobbits see as good climbing trees bears see as things to knock over to get to hobbits, so she was knocked down, and screamed much louder than necessary when the bear sniffed her face.

The bear became surprised, then roared, then choked, then died as a man stuck a knife into him.

Arabella wasn't impolite, so she thanked him profusely, and a bit much, while still under the tree.

"Oh, thank you, kind sir! You saved me! My father will repay you, to be sure! Oh, such a-"

"Shut up," said the man, which, now that Arabella saw him, he looked more of a ruffian than a gentleman.

Arabella was strong, too, so she managed to pull the tree off of herself, "Still, you must be rewarded- Oh, you didn't happen to save my brothers, too, did you? That would be- could you help me-"

"Shut UP!" bellowed the definite ruffian, and Arabella's thanks turned to a squeak.

"You're to return to your house," he said, then, when Arabella didn't move, "GO!"

Arabella ran.


	4. Chapter 4

Then little Arabella picked up the ends of her full lace skirt and quickly padded in a silent hobbit manner away from the old tree and back to Tookland in time for Afternoon Tea. When she returned, she saw the lights of her hole casting a warm glow on the garden in front of their home. She could make out the silhouettes of her brothers, Everard and Reginard. And her father, Master Took, cooking Afternoon Tea over the stove. She straightened her bow on the back of her skirt, brushed the soil off her furry toes, and hid her dagger in her apron. Then she heaved a sigh of relief and walked in. The dead beast lay in the hall. Curse her quick and thieving brothers! Arabella stepped into the kitchen.

"There it was, huge, ugly and smelly; right in front of my face," said Everard dramatically. Expanding his huge brown eyes. "I took out my rock and sling, and then hit it right between the eyes! Isn't that right, Reginard?"

His brother closed his eyes and shook his curly brown head, "That's funny cause I remember I was the one who took down the bear," Reginard gave his brother a look that said What the hell, man. We rehearsed this.

"Boys," squeaked their father nervously, "When I told you to go out and get me a bear, what I meant was go outside and play in the road or something. Not drag a huge smelly animal into our cozy little home. What are the neighbors going to think about this like un-hobbitlike behavior?"

He rapidly moved his eyes to the hall and back to the hobbit children then back to the hall again as if we was afraid that the bear would decide to wake up and kill them all. Arabella stood in the entrance of the kitchen with her arms crossed, lips pursed, and her hips tilted to one side.

"Father," Arabella began, walking over to the table and taking each of the brothers by the ears as they yelped in pain. "I don't believe they are telling the truth."

Arabella dragged the boys to the hall and Master Took followed. She showed them the wound on the bears back from the man's knife. Then told her family about the ruffian who had saved her life.

"This is bad. "his is really bad," said Master Took pacing the hall.

"Why, Because it will stink up the house?" asked Reginard. Everard smiled at his brother like it was the funniest thing in the world that they tricked their father into thinking two little hobbit children could take down a full grown grizzly.

Master Took looked at the bear in distaste. "Haven't you heard the rumors? An evil Wizard is planning an attack on the Shire is bringing an army of ruffians to chase us out of our holes! If I didn't know any better I'd say that the Sackville-Baggins kid, Lotho, is behind this."

Arabella nodded thoughtfully, "Defiantly, with all those shirrif hobbits regulating our farms and mills and posting up strange new rules. No doubt Lotho had made compromises with this dark wizard. Ever since Frodo Baggins left the Shire, things have been getting strange."

That night Arabella lay in her bed thinking about what happened. _"Oh, thank you, kind sir! You saved me! My father will repay you, to be sure! Oh, such a-" _ She didn't want to think about it. What if tomorrow the thug appeared at their hole demanding for a reward for killing the beast. What if he claimed ownership over the hole and her brothers. No. She couldn't worry about things she had no control over. Being the only girl in the house, she had to be tough and calm at the same time, especially since she was the oldest of her siblings. She just hoped nothing horrible would happen to the beautiful Shire.

The next morning, Arabella put on her traveling cloak and set out. She left Tookland, crossed Farmer Maggot's land, and took the Brandywine Bridge into Buckland. She stood before the Old Forest gate and read the rules the shirrifs posted on the door:

NO RUNNING

NO PUBLIC DISPLAYS OF AFFECTION

NO DRINKING TO EXCESS

NO PIPE WEED

NO SECOND BREAKFAST…

No Second Breakfast? Something definitely had to be done. She pushed open the Old Forest gate and crossed the Hedge to the other side. The entrance to the forest stood like an open gaping mouth into the night. The Old Forest was a dreary place. The tangled roots and twisted boughs of the trees lead only into complete pitch-black darkness. It was evening now, but she couldn't see anything more than three feet in front of her. She took a deep breath of the biting-cold forest air and thought, for the Shire and for my brothers. She knew she couldn't stop them, but she had to find a way to delay the ruffians from taking over the Shire and the hobbits.

…

Nimrodel lead the Merry Party, as it was now formally called, down the Anduin. It had been 10 days since they set out from Ithilien. For a party of seven, they had been making great progress hiking across the steep foggy grey hills of the Emyn Muil. They were probably going so fast because Nimrodel was eager to get to the golden forest of Lorien to see the Lady Galadriel. Everybody was in good spirits, they were traveling through Middle-earth and hadn't got attacked yet. They should definately get an award or something. Uldor was looking more and more elvish every day. He had washed the blood dirt out of his hair and took out the braids so his long black hair hung loose. He exchanged his tattered scarlet robes for one of Gildor's greyish blue ones, although he kept the golden color and brazen armor. The Lambas had defiantly gotten to his brain. Gildor rode upon Greymantle, with Aredhel guarding his flanks. She had occasionally gripped her sword every time Olog would come too close to the leader of the company.

When the company had seen the last of the maze of foothills behind them, They set out along the Anduin. It was commonly agreed that they would move upstream faster if they had boats with rows. Gildor had sent Olog and Orodeth to find the largest tree they could find for building supplies.

Orodeth gripped his bow tightly. And Olog stomped behind. All that could be heard in the empty silence was the snapping of the pine needles under Olog's rough claws. Orodeth wished Gildor had sent another member of the company to go into the thick lichen-covered forest alone with an orc. Perhaps Uldor, he seemed more comfortable around her. Orodeth tried to whistle to himself but Olog turned around and gave in a warning look, with those unsettling green eyes. They had stopped in front of a large pine tree so tall you could not see the top without the sun, peeking it way into the dark forest, blinding your eyes. It's trunk was so large, even Olog's unusually long arms could not fit around the tree.

"I suppose this is the one," Orodeth said, open eyed and gaping.

"I guess so," growled Olog harshly, as she drew out a large metal battle ax.

"Umm, how about you allow me to chop this one down," Orodeth said shakily, stepping away backwards and almost tripping over himself.

Olog approached him dangerously slow, enjoying every ounce of fear he showed in his expressions and body language.

"Why? you don't trust me?" she asked under her breath, looking like she was on the brink of letting go of every bit of anger her body contained. She raised her ax, shaking in rage.

Suddenly they turned. There had been rustling in the trees. Orodeth drew his bow and Olog approached with her ax. Before their eyes they saw a hunched over old man in dirty brown robes and a twisted wooden staff. He had wrinkles around his eyes and mouth from smiling. He had warm, good natured brown eyes. Olog thought he even looked hobbit-like. Though, Orodeth knew exactly who he was, Radagast the Brown, wizard of the Istari.

"Ahh! Thank goodness I've found you before you destroyed that magnificent tree with the sting of hard and ugly iron! Lady Galadriel had sent me to guide a- um, what did she call it? a ' merry party'?" He laughed brightly. "I suppose it is the job of the wizards of Middle-earth to lead fellowships on important quests. Now, I'm not about to let Gandalf have all the fun! Show me to Gildor, we all need to have a meeting."


	5. Chapter 5

Arabella wandered the Old Forest, knife in hand. It was dark, and dreary, and she was tired and weary, and she just wanted to sleep.

Eventually she came upon a house, very large and merry-looking, despite the bandits camped all around it. A flash of light came from the house, and the bandits scattered like ants for a moment, before running back to their places and acting as though nothing happened. Curses came from the house.

Arabella started counting the number of bandits and lost count around fifty, so she decided if she was going to get into that house, she was going to sneak in. She stepped as careful as a hobbit could step, and walked towards the house, jumping up and running when she was spotted three feet in. She slammed the door behind her and breathed heavily.

"Bloody-del-dum bandits, they are!" a strangely dressed man was saying. He turned around, his eyes far from merry, and saw Arabella.

"What-ho! A visitor!"

...

Olog sat beside Aredhel, which was really awkward. It was strange for Uldor, seeing it. Elf, elf, elf, orc, elf. He could barely hold his amazement, and laughter, back.

"Now, I have called this meeting here today," said Radagast, then stopped, his pointed finger wilting, "For a reason that is completely beyond me." He thought for a moment, scratching his bedraggled head.

"Ah! Yes! Evil wizard! Heading to the Shire! Really, no idea why he was created if he was just going to terrorize the poor hobbits-"

There was a bolt of lightning in the clear sky, and Radagast jumped.

"Sorry, sorry, the lord Eru works in mysterious ways, yes, I know- but, anyway, Evil!" He shouted this last word, causing the elves to jump. "Accursed, forsaken-"

"You know you have boar shit on your leg," said Olog, crossing her arms.

"-I believe it is from a deer, but I didn't exactly have time to clean before I got here, miss orc!" Radagast looked indignant, then he softened with those strange mood swings that were beginning to confuse Uldor.

"Anyway, those poor hobbits and their pets and toy dogs are suffering- I really have to un-curse that poor Rover, Saruman was so mean- but, anyway, we must get to the Shire, and faster than we are going!"

"We were heading there as fast as we could-" said Uldor, and the elves shut their open mouths, stopping their protests.

"Yes, but you must go faster! There is a route-" he pulled out a map and laid it on the table.

It was a well worn map, made from soft leather, and inscribed in the flowing script of elvish Tengwar characters. Radagast traced his brown wrinkled hands along the Anduin and stopped when he reached Lorien with is finger.

"When we reach the golden wood, we are going to ask the elf lord, Galadriel, for supplies and guidance."

He moved his hands through the forest and over the Misty Mountains. He stopped and laughed nervously like an old loon.

"We, uh, may have to go _below _the Misty Mountains through the Moria gate…"

Then there came various cries from the elves.

"No, not that way!" "Anywhere but there!" "There _must_ be another way!"

"Silence!" bellowed the wizard.

Thunder cracked in the sky again and illuminated the faces of the company.

"Please?" squeaked Radagast.

Gildor set a candle on the old tree stump displaying the map in a new light. He raised his hand in permission to speak. The old wizard nodded nervously.

" I've heard tidings from Elros and Elrohir from Rivendell that the Fellowship of the Ring has awoken a horrible creature in the bowels of Moria. We cannot possibly go that way if we value our lives."

Olog snorted. "And what horrible creature might this be?" she said as if she was the most awful thing that they would see on their entire journey.

"A balrog of Morgoth," said Maglor, suddenly looking up from his harp, "my father, Feanor, died in the hands of one of those terrible demons."

Olog must have looked shocked, because Uldor winked and said, "I'll protect you, Olog."

This caused the orc to get up and knock the easterling out of his seat.

Radagast was shaking now, "_exactly_ why we seek the guidance of the Golden Lady."

The company turned their attention back to the map .

"Once we cross and scale the Misty Mountains, we will make our way to Rivendell and seek advice from Master Elrond on how to defeat the dark wizard Saruman and his companion Grima Wormtongue by chasing the ruffians and thugs out of the Shire. After Rivendell we'll head out to Bree and meet Tom Bombadil at the _Prancing Pony _and come up with strategy_._ Then, We'll join the battle together and we shall chase evil out of the west for good!"

He raised both of his hands in the air like this was a simple task he was asking a classroom of 1st graders to do. Orodeth smiled and nodded his head like this was going to be fun. _He definitely doesn't get out much._ thought Olog as she put her head in her hands.

The next morning Nimrodel lead the company to one of the tributaries of the Anduin, the Silverlode, the river that lead straight into the heart of the enchanted golden wood of Lothlorien. Olog looked at the beauty of the grey barked mallorn trees with their thick trunks and their bright golden leaves. The ground was covered in green meadow grass spotted with pretty yellow star shaped flowers, elanor and small pale blooms, niphredil. She felt something warm up inside her as the rising sun shone through the forest leaves. It was definitely not along the lines of contentedness or happiness, if that's what you're thinking.

"Well," said Nimrodel. Her blue eyes shone with satisfaction, "I'm home."

…

Arabella beheld the strange man. He was much too tall for a hobbit and was also bearded, but also much too short for one of the big-folk. He dressed mostly in blue. except he wore bright yellow boots. He had a hat that was also yellow with a great blue feather sticking out of it. She knew then, that the legends were true. She had run into the house if Tom Bombadil.

" I-I'm so sorry!" she stuttered. " I was escaping from the ruffians. I ran here. I-I didn't know where else to go."

Tom Bombadil laughed whole-heartedly.

"All good travelers are welcomed in the home of _Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo and the River-daughter!" _

Arabella wondered if he always breaks out in song like this. Eru, she hoped not.

"Listen, The Shire is in danger. We need your help to-"

"Don't you worry now, my darling, I've been told that we are expecting aid to come and meet us at the inn in Bree. I've been waiting for a brave little wanderer to hop along on my journey," he said smiling down on the young hobbit girl.

"Who? _Me!? _I-" she took a deep breath,and tried to remember why she came here in the first place to protect the Tooks she loved. "Yes,that would be me." she said. She pulled on her traveling cloak and headed for the door.

"Hold on little, miss!" cried Bombadil, "you wouldn't leave without dinner and supper?"

Arabella stopped in her tracks. Did he say dinner _and_ supper?

She was in the dining room at a long wooden table. The fire crackling in the hearth provided the room with a cozy faint light. And a woman with long strawberry-golden hair adorned with a crown of lilies was tending to the meal(s). Arabella was guessing this was the river-daughter. At the table was everything a hobbit could dream of: roast meats, chicken, po-ta-to stew, dinner rolls, _mushrooms_, and many varieties of cakes. Arabella was not one to shy away from food; she was on her third helping of supper when Tom Bombadil began to tell her his plan.

"I, my sweet Goldberry, Fatty

Lumpkin, and the little hobbit-maiden will journey a-long through the Old Forest tomorrow and battle any of Saruman's thugs that cross our paths. Then we will have to cross the Barrow-downs. This shall be the hardest part because, not only will it be very foggy, we will also have to keep our eyes open for the ruffians _and_ the barrow-wights. Then we shall arrive at the at Bree and drink ale at the inn until the Merry Party arrives and then we save the Shire."

_Well that escalated quickly_, thought Arabella, but she had nothing against staying at an inn eating all their food and drinking all their ale. For some strange reason, she trusted Tom Bombadil would set things right. She was comforted by the fact that no one knew the Old Forest quite like this man and he was a friend to every living thing that dwelt there. This gave her some reassurance. She thanked Tom and Goldberry for her meal(s), and went to bed. No dreams disturbed her rest


	6. Chapter 6

Olog disliked Galadriel strongly. She would hate her, but she had been informed that if she used that word again she would be punished. Therefore, Olog didn't hate Galadriel, but she disliked her strongly.

The first reason came in the struggle that occurred when the elves were informed that the Merry Party would be bringing an orc into Lothlorien. Then came the look Galadriel gave Olog, then the elves, then the Merry Party, when Olog stood before her. Finally, the mind-reading was putting her off a bit.

So this was why Olog was currently sulking in the darkest corner she could possibly find in Lothlorien, which was still mildly bright, as the whole place seemed to shine with a strange, irritating light.

Uldor found her first, and promptly informed her that hiding was a bad idea, as she had driven the elves around the bend looking for her to make sure she wasn't causing trouble.

Olog glared her most intense glare and promptly ordered him to, "Buzz off."

Uldor sighed and sat down next to Olog. "I had a talk with Galadriel. Well, I say _talk."_

Olog just continued to glare at him.

"She should treat you better now," said Uldor, then smiled, "She was quite interested in the idea, as well."

Olog's grumpiness didn't completely vanish, but it eased a little with her irritation and curiosity. "What?"

"Oh, I just wondered, if an orc was good enough, would it turn into an elf? I suppose you're going to prove if that's true or not, travelling around with the Merry Party and all. So long as you don't say the word hate."

Olog stared at him in shock, then that shock turned to irritation, then anger.

"You think I would want to turn into an elf? Bah! Such a vile race!"

A passing elf stuck her tongue out at Olog.

"They're so high and mighty, arrogant and vain! What makes them so special, anyway? I would rather stay an orc, to prove you wrong!"

...

Uldor stood up abruptly. His face was stern.

"If you don't want to change what you are, thats fine with me. You don't have to. I thought you'd be happier as an 's all I wanted you to be: happy. I protected you for your safety and took you away from Sauron's domain so that we might have a second chance. I'm sorry if the elves and I came off as vain."

Uldor turned and disappeared into the grey forest towards the glowing camp of the elves. Olog watched him in disgust. The wood elves were sitting in a circle at the base of a large mallorn. They were telling stories, singing songs, and eating food other than lembas bread. When Uldor joined the circle Aredhel clapped him on the back and handed him a cup of wine. Maglor was offering the Easterling his harp and was insisting that he play them a song. Uldor laughed and tried to push that instrument away, but he lost. The man downed his wine and stood up. His singing was out of tune and he had no idea how to play the harp, but the Lothlorien elves were laughing and clapping their hands. The simmering light from the silver trees rested upon Uldor's face. As he was dancing, he smiled brightly showing his dimples and white teeth. Olog stormed off in the opposite direction.

She didn't care if the elven folk thought she was up to no good.

She didn't care that the merry party treated her like dangerous unnecessary baggage.

And she certainly didn't care if Uldor despised her.

_You only think he hates you. You push everyone away. _

She told her mind to shut-up, but the voice came again.

_I know what you seek._

Olog adjusted her eyes to the dark and between the grey trunks, she saw a glowing white form shimmering through the trees. The lady Galadriel gestured for her to follow. She led the orc though a green hedge and into an enclosed garden. Underneath the open sky there lay a pool in a large basin. The pearly clear water reflected the light of Varda's stars.

"Will you look into the mirror?" The elf queen asked.

…

When Arabella woke the next morning she, Bombadil, and Goldberry began the journey to the inn. They put on their travelling cloaks, packed food and supplies onto Fatty Lumpkin, and began making their way through the Old Forest. The morning mist still hung around the trees and chilled the air around them. Arabella hoped that the ruffians would be more interested in hunting wild beast than pursuing them. And above that, she hoped that that the ruffians were more interested in pursuing _them _than pillaging the Shire and attacking everyone she knew and loved. She concealed her fear and bravely continued through the fog.

Goldberry stopped. "Do you see that?" She asked staring into the wood.

Bombadil stopped his whistling. "See what, river daughter?" He asked.

"There!" she pointed into the growth.

Arabella strained her eyes. A figure in a dark cloak lurked under the tall pines.

"Reveal yourself to Old Tom, Stranger," said Bombadil firmly.

From under the trees the man strode forward. He removed the hood, revealing his face. He was definitely one of Saruman's men, but not just any thug. He was the same man that saved her from the grizzly under the old tree. Arabella drew her knife.

…


	7. Chapter 7

Olog stomped as she paced. She couldn't exactly help it- she was an orc, and an angry and confused one at that.

"_Will you look into the mirror?"_

Why had she listened to that elf, she didn't know. What was the use of a mirror that showed what could or couldn't be, (or what was or wasn't, or what is or isn't,) anyway?She couldn't fathom why somebody would look into such a finicky mirror!

_You looked into it, you dolt._

Olog would've killed Galadriel if that had been her voice, but the elf was nowhere to be seen.

"_Who the heck is that, she looks even more stuck up than you!" Olog said angrily, wondering why she had bothered looking into the mirror in the first place. _

"_Look to the person next to her."_

"_What, Uldor? What do I care if he gets around with you arrogant elves?"_

_Galadriel's mask broke, and a brief flash of anger overcame her face. "Does it look like this has happened already?"_

Olog strongly despised Galadriel. What good would knowing the possible future do? Especially if that future entailed her as an elf! How was that future even possible, anyway? She was the orc-iest orc around, and proud!

"_You're kidding," said Olog, staring at Galadriel. "You actually believe this vision?"_

"_I believe that you are veering off the path of darkness and finding the good within you. If the mirror says that it is possible, then it is entirely probable that this could happen."_

"_Bull shit. The mirror lies."_

Olog stopped her pacing when she recalled that moment, thinking about it further now. If the mirror showed all probabilities, then it was possible she could turn into an elf. She thought about how much better she would be treated, then, and how she could flounce around through the flowers in her fancy elvish garb. She spat on the ground. She didn't want that. She wanted that about as much as she wanted Uldor to rescue her from a tower.

_Galadriel sighed, looking sad. "It is your choice. If you choose not to believe it, I will not stop you-"_

"_And how the heck would you stop me, with your fancy mind-reading powers?"_

_Irritation flashed in Galadriel's eyes, but she continued. "-However, you are already journeying down this road. It will happen eventually, if you continue on your path, whether you want it or not. If you wish to veer away from this destination, I would act quickly."_

Olog frowned. She didn't know _how _to veer from this path, unless she started killing all the elves in Lothlorien, or convinced Uldor to stage a rebellion in the Merry Party with her. She would be killed either way, it seemed, and even acting bad in the company of the Merry Party was a bad idea…

But she found she didn't want to do any of those things, anyway. She was perfectly fine with travelling with the elves and grumping at Radagast. Killing them would mean going back to Sauron, and when she remembered her life back then and how she was treated, even the Merry Party seemed better. Maybe if the other orcs had a taste of a better life, they would feel the same as her. Maybe being good would prove something.

But she didn't _want _this. She could be good as an orc, couldn't she? What would it prove if she became an elf?

She sat down on the ground with a thump, despairing. She tried to think of a solution, but couldn't. Her thoughts descended into silent sadness after a while, and she startled badly when she heard a thump next to her, distinctly different from Uldor.

Orodeth smiled at her, concerned

It was nighttime in the land of Lorien. The Merry Party had all laid their sleeping mats below the great roots of the silver mallorn trees. Almost everyone was asleep. Light came from the luminous lanterns in the elven homes in the branches high above and the moon casted a blue light on the forest floor. The only sound was the song of nightingales and the hushed voices of Olog and Orodeth.

"We are leaving at dawn for the Misty Mountains. Unfortunately, Radagast received ill tidings from Galadriel that the pass over Caradhras is blocked. The peak of the mountain is where Radagast's good friend, Gandalf, battled and defeated a balrog of Morgoth. The fall of the terrible demon caused an avalanche over the only path that leads to the other side of the range. We are going to have to go through Moria."

Orodeth seemed different than usual. He spoke calmer and with less enthusiasm. He smiled, but Olog could tell that his eyes were filled with worry and his fair face was etched in fear.

The elf continued to speak, "I couldn't sleep. I never left Mirkwood before, but I have heard terrible things about the vile creatures that live under those mountains."

Olog didn't feel like comforting him especially after what she saw in Galadriel's mirror, but she pushed her own problems into the back of her mind and spoke with compassionate sincerity for the first time.

"I'll be coming with you. I promise that you will not need to fear anything on this entire trip but me. Those mountain goblins don't stand a chance against a Morgul orc. I honestly think that Moria cannot be anything worse than Mordor, and I _lived_ there."

"Thank you, Olog," said Orodeth.

"Just go to bed," snapped Olog.

When dawn came, the Merry Party gathered their provisions and said goodbye to Lorien and Queen Galadriel. Radagast seemed very jumpy and was eager to get a move on to get the journey through the mountains over with. Nimrodel was in tears, for she was leaving her beloved home once again. Aredhel had her arm around her. Before they set out, the elf queen leaned over and whispered something into Uldor's ear. His face flushed crimson. Olog hoped that she wasn't sharing any information about what she saw that night in her magical mirror.

Finally, with the old brown wizard leading the way, they eventually made it to the Moria entrance on the eastern side of the Misty Mountains. The darkness of the entrance into the ground was vast. It even seem to swallow light from the daytime. As the party stood on the threshold, Olog had an unexplainable sense of dread and foreboding deep in her heart.

...


End file.
